We'll Make It Okay
by purpleushi
Summary: When Stiles' dad is injured on the job, Stiles relies on his best friend and his pack leader for comfort. Stiles/Scott/Derek.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Feels. All the feels.

Disclaimer: Don't own.

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The phone dropped from Stiles' hand, clattering to the floor. The sounds of his classmates rushing past him in the hallway faded to a muffled blur. He stood, staring with unfocused eyes at his open locker. His phone was kicked to the side by the passing crowd but he didn't notice. It was as if his body had turned to ice, he was unable to move, unable to form cohesive thoughts. He stayed standing there long after the others had disappeared into their classrooms. He stood there, paralyzed, not even noticing the footsteps coming up behind him until Scott was right next to him.

"Stiles?" the other boy asked. Then he bent down to pick up the abandoned cell phone. He held it out to Stiles, brow furrowing in concerned scrutiny. "Are you okay?"

And then the levy broke. Reality came flooding back and Stiles' eyes went from glassy to tear filled. He shook his head, unable to speak, and looked like he was about to collapse. Scott reached out to steady him, and Stiles immediately sank against him. Scott wrapped his arms around his friend. "What's wrong?" he asked again. Stiles was shaking, clutching at Scott for support.

"M-my dad," he managed to stammer. Scott tensed.

"Did something happen? Is he hurt? Was it wolves?"

Stiles shook his head.

"What does that mean? Is he okay?" Scott was panicking. He gripped Stiles' shoulders hand held him out at arm's length. "Tell me Stiles!"

Stiles blinked, eyes red and wet.

"He's not okay," he whispered. "He was shot. In the head. He's in a coma," he robotically recited the facts without emotion, and then fell back into Scott's arms. Scott inhaled sharply, then rubbed his hand over Stiles's back soothingly.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay," he mumbled. "Come on, we're going to the hospital." He grabbed Stiles' bag from his locker and fumbled in the pocket for the keys to his jeep. Stiles' followed him to the parking lot and then froze when he reached the car.

"I can't," Stiles rasped. "I can't see him. It'll be like m-mom. I can't."

Scott squeezed Stiles' hand. "We have to go. Not in the room, but we have to be there." He opened the passenger door for Stiles and then got into the driver's seat. He held Stiles' hand as he drove, rubbing small circles with his thumb. It would be okay. It had to be okay. Stiles couldn't lose his dad, it just wouldn't be fair.

He raced through the doors of the hospital, frantically seeking out his mother. He found her at the nurses' station and she immediately pulled him into a hug. She pulled away when she saw Stiles and started to reach for him, but he took a step back. "Is he going to be okay?" Stiles asked, voice shaking.

Mrs. McCall shrouded her emotions and went into nurse-mode. "He was just brought in an hour ago. He's in a medically induced coma. We won't know the extent of the damage until we wake him up."

"Damage?" Scott asked.

"The bullet was lodged in his frontal lobe. We can't be sure of the effects on brain function—" she cut off as Stiles sank against the wall and slid to the floor. Scott crouched down beside him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

When Stiles finally stopped shaking twenty minutes later, Mrs. McCall led them to Sheriff Stilinski's room. The Sheriff's bed was surrounded by a curtain, and he wasn't yet allowed visitors, so they sat down on the cushioned bench in the hall.

The clock on the wall was moving at a snail's pace, as doctors and nurses passed in and out of the room. Stiles' stared numbly at the floor, refusing the food and drinks offered to him. He looked up briefly when Mrs. McCall gave them an uninformative update, and then went back to contemplating the linoleum.

Derek came as soon as he heard, surprising both Scott and Stiles. "Pack helps pack," he explained, sitting down next to Stiles.

Scott eventually drifted off to sleep, and woke up to Stiles pounding his fists into the wall, tears streaming down his cheeks, shouting unintelligibly. Derek wrapped his body around Stiles, pinning his arms to his chest. Stiles fought him, futilely, and eventually gave up, sinking against Derek. Derek held him close, rocking him side to side in a comforting rhythm while mumbling assurances into his shoulder.

Scott gave Derek an appreciative smile. Stiles needed all the support he could get right now.

A short while later, Stiles fell asleep using Scott's shoulder as a pillow. Derek asked a nurse for a blanket, and then gently tucked it around Stiles' tightly curled body.

Mrs. McCall came back when her shift ended. "Nothing's going to change overnight," she explained to Scott and Derek. "He can stay with us tonight."

Scott tried to wake Stiles up but he only latched himself further onto Scott's arm, still deep asleep. Derek helped pry him off, picking him up to carry him to the car. Stiles instinctively wrapped his arms and legs around him.

Derek tried to deposit Stiles in the back seat of Mrs. McCall's car, but Stiles refused to detach himself, so Scott ended up driving the jeep home with Derek and Stiles in the back seat.

Stiles woke up as Derek was carrying him into the house. He pushed himself off of Derek, muttering an apology. Derek brushed it off and made to leave, but Stiles looked suddenly panicked. "Stay," he rasped desperately. Derek looked at Scott, who shrugged, and then followed them into the house and up to Scott's bedroom. Stiles kicked off his shoes and dropped his jeans and then climbed into Scott's bed. Scott went to get extra sheets and pillows so he and Derek could sleep on the floor, but Stiles grabbed his wrist and pulled him back towards the bed.

"Need you," Stiles mumbled. "Both of you."

Scott allowed Stiles to pull him down next to him, and Derek slid into bed on Stiles' other side. Stiles relaxed, spooning into Derek, and wrapping his arms tightly around Scott. Derek rested his hand on Stiles' waist, and buried his head in Stiles' shoulder blade. "It will be okay," he promised.

Within minutes, Stiles was asleep again. The other two held him protectively, and eventually drifted off to sleep themselves.

(TBC)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: What are threesomes? Seriously though I had to watch a butt ton of porn to write this.

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Stiles woke up in the middle of the night shaking in a cold sweat. He felt Derek moving behind him, instinctively wrapping his arms tighter to calm Stiles. Stiles leaned into the embrace, breathing methodically in and out as his shrink had taught him to do when he had panic attacks about his mom.

Thinking about her wasn't really helping to put him at ease though. He'd already lost her, he couldn't lose his dad too. He wasn't sure he'd be able to go on if that were to happen.

He played the doctors' words over and over in his head. "Hemorrhage…brain trauma…brain injury…cognitive impairment." They didn't know anything for sure yet, but just knowing the possibilities was threatening Stiles' sanity. He had to be at the hospital. He had to be with his dad. He needed to know.

He elbowed Scott frantically to wake him up. Scott blinked groggily, then quickly came to attention as he registered the panic on Stiles' face.

"What's wrong?" he questioned immediately. His voice woke up Derek, who tensed.

"We have to go to the hospital," Stiles mumbled, voice ragged and eyes red.

Scott's throat clenched shut. It was like he could feel Stiles' pain. The smell of fear was so strong it was choking him.

"It's 3am," he reminded, reaching out to wipe a tear from Stiles' cheek with his thumb. "We'll go in the morning. You need to sleep." He pulled his hand back but Stiles had an iron grip on his wrist, so he cupped Stiles cheek and pressed their foreheads together. Derek rubbed slow circles over Stiles' shoulders and back. He could feel Stiles' heartbeat gradually slowing under his touch.

Stiles nodded, lips accidentally brushing against Scott's. Derek felt Stiles' pulse jump again, but the smell of fear and pain was subsiding. Instead of anguish, Derek sensed desire, radiating off of both Scott and Stiles. Stiles didn't move, lips frozen against Scott's. Then slowly Scott opened his mouth, asking for permission. Stiles nodded again, and Scott slid his hand to the back of Stiles' head, pulling him closer as he kissed him. The tension flooded from Stiles, and was replaced by a desperate need for contact. He reached for Derek's hand which was still on his back and pulled it forward to rest on his waist. Derek took the hint and moved closer, pressing his lips to Stiles' shoulder. His hand slid up under Stiles' tee-shirt as he gently sucked at Stiles' shoulder and neck. Scott's hand joined his, lifting Stiles' shirt up. They broke apart to help Stiles' out of the garment. Their own followed quickly. Sties' gasped as warm flesh was pressed against him from both sides.

Scott trailed his lips down Stiles' chin to his neck and onto his chest, while Derek's hands cupped his hips, fingers ghosting over his pelvic bones. Stiles' breathing was fast and ragged again, but for an entirely different reason.

Scott kissed Stiles' stomach and Stiles arched backwards into Derek who leaned forward to capture Stiles' lips.

No one spoke. There was no need to. Nothing had ever felt as right as this moment.

Scott's lips reached the band of Stiles' boxers, and Stiles pressed his hips forward, actions driven solely by physical need. Derek pulled Stiles upright, leaning up against the headboard and guiding Stiles to sit in between his legs. Scott was crouched on all fours, knees bent, hands gripping Stiles' thighs. He licked and sucked at Stiles' hipbones, trailing down his pelvic bones to the tender skin of his inner thighs.

Stiles tossed his head back against Derek, gasps and moans escaping his open mouth. Derek turned Stiles head so he could kiss him again, silencing him. Stiles kissed back furiously, one hand clutching Derek's arm, the other tightly would in the soft curls of Scott's hair.

Scott's hand came up to lightly grip Stiles' cock, sliding along its length as he continued to suck at the pale skin of the boy's thigh.

Stiles' breath caught in his throat. He pressed Scott's head closer and dug his nails into Derek's arms, legs wrapping around Scott's shoulders and squeezing him. Scott replaced his hand with his mouth and had to hold Stiles' hips back to keep him from bucking violently forward. Scott sucked Stiles down, taking as much of him into his mouth as he could. Stiles was writing in Derek's arms, rubbing against him in a way that was very, very, pleasing. Derek pressed his hips forward, crushing his erection between him and Stiles.

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, clawing at Derek as he came into Scott's hot, soft mouth. He collapsed against Derek, shaking, pupils blown wide. Scott swallowed and pushed himself up to lean over Stiles, straddling his lap as he kissed him, his lips still salty with Stiles' cum. Scott continued to kiss Stiles as he pressed forward, erection digging into Stiles' stomach. Scott's hands were on Stiles' shoulders, and Derek's hands were on his hips. Both of them were grinding against him, the fabric of their underwear creating even more friction between them. Scott was kissing him and Derek was biting into his shoulder. He didn't know what to do with his hands so he rested them on the nearest surface, Scott's hips.

Scott came first, groaning his orgasm, nails digging into Stiles' shoulders. Derek followed shortly after, spilling his seed into the cleft of Stiles' ass, yanking his mouth back from Stiles' just before he broke the skin.

Their pulses were racing, breaths coming fast and hot. Stiles was covered in sticky sweat, but he honestly didn't even notice. All he could think about were the two bodies surrounding him with warmth. He fit perfectly into Derek, and felt himself drifting off, head nestled into the crook of Derek's neck. Derek's arms slid around his waist as Scott pulled the blanket up over them, curling up between Stiles' legs. He rested his cheek on Stiles' thigh and fell asleep to the slow rise and fall of Stiles' breaths.

Returning to the hospital the next morning was not something Scott wanted to do, but Stiles needed him there. Needed him and Derek to let him know that everything would be okay. That they would get through this, together. He kept his hand in contact with Stiles' arm while the doctor explained the situation to them

They'd removed the bullet and stopped the bleeding. The damage had been contained to the frontal lobe, so there was no damage to physical function. Sheriff Stilinski was breathing on his own. He was still unconscious, from the drugs, but there was definite brain activity. The chances were good that he would be okay, but they couldn't be sure of the cognitive damage until he woke up.

Stiles nodded as the words flew past, too fast for him to fully comprehend. He focused on Derek's hand on the small of his back and Scott's on his forearm, and it kept him grounded. There was still anxiety, but it was significantly muted by the comfort of his two friends.

As soon as they were alone, Scott wrapped himself tightly around Stiles.

"He'll be okay," he whispered. Because even though he couldn't guarantee it, it was what Stiles needed to head. Derek leaned in to press his lips to Stiles' forehead.

Stiles nodded, giving the best smile he could manage. It didn't reach his eyes, but it was progress.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Last chapter :] This was super fun to write. I've written one chapter each week during my 3 hour technology-free lecture. Aaaand now I'll have to start something else because god that lecture is boring as fuck. So yeah, read and review please! I haven't really gotten much feedback on this and I would really like some!

Disclaimer: Don't own Teen Wolf. Woo.

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Sheriff Stilinski woke up four days later. In those four days, either Scott of Derek had been constantly at Stiles' side. Without them he wouldn't have slept, wouldn't have eaten, wouldn't have moved from the wooden bench outside his Dad's hospital room.

When the Sheriff finally woke up, Stiles was asleep, head in Scott's lap, Scott's fingers running through his short hair. Mrs. McCall rested her hand on Scott's shoulder, jerking him out of his trance. Scott in turn nudged Stiles awake, while sending a text to Derek.

They went into the room together. Scott held Stiles' hand, while Derek rested a hand on Stiles' shoulder.

Sheriff Stilinski was sitting semi-upright in the bed. His head was still wrapped tightly in gauze bandages, and there was an IV tube in his wrist, giving him a steady drip of morphine. His eyes were slightly glazed, cheeks eerily hollow.

Stiles swallowed. "Dad…" he rasped out.

Sheriff Stilinski's eyes slowly raised to meet his son's.

"Stiles," he whispered, trying to lift his hand to reach for his son. The tears were already streaming down Stiles' cheeks. He broke free of Scott and Derek to race to his father's side.

"Dad, you're okay," he sobbed, crashing to his knees and burying his face in his dad's chest. Sheriff Stilinski raised his arm to rest his hand on Stiles' shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. He pressed his lips to Stiles' forehead.

Relieved sobs wracked through Stiles' body.

Derek jerked his head towards the door and Scott nodded, following the alpha out into the hall. They had both felt Stiles' desperate need shift from them to his father. Scott felt the loss acutely, like a gaping hole in his consciousness, causing his throat to constrict.

"Why does it hurt?" he asked Derek, frowning and balling his hands into tense fists.

Derek looked just as pained as he felt, face pale, shoulders stiff. Derek let out a ragged breath.

"I wasn't sure until now, but..." he looked down at the ground, swallowing. "Stiles is your mate," he explained. After a pause he revised, "_Our_ mate."

Scott's head shot up, eyes narrowing.

"How does that—How is that—"

"How is that possible?" Derek sighed. "I told you you're not an omega, you're your own alpha. Alpha's have mates. I didn't think it could happen but… We both need Stiles. I can't take him from you, or you'll die. Same goes for me. I guess this means—"

"We share," Scott finished.

Derek nodded.

They sat together on the bench, staring somewhat shell-shocked at the white cinderblock wall in front of them. Scott was trembling, tapping his fingers on his legs with a nervous desperation.

A nurse came to shoo Stiles out of the room so they could do some cognitive tests on the Sheriff. When he came out into the hallway, his presence slammed into Scott's awareness and suddenly he could breathe again. Stiles' eyes widened as Scott leapt up to wrap his arms around him, clinging tightly.

"You okay buddy?" Stiles' asked, able to joke for the first time in a week. Scott nodded, unable to contain his grin.

"_You're_ happy… and it's making _me_ happy," he answered with wonderment. Stiles looked at him incredulously.

"Scott what are you—?"

Scott shook his head, silencing Stiles. "Need you to be happy," Scott mumbled, burying his face in the crook of Stiles' neck. Stiles was vaguely aware that Derek had come up behind him, slipping his hands around his waist.

Stiles blinked, "Guys I—"

"Shut up Stiles," the two wolves muttered in unison.

"What? Oh yeah, shutting up, I can do that, sure thing—"

Scott growled, then silenced Stiles with his lips, almost animalistically ravaging his mouth. Derek's fingers dug bruisingly into his hips. Stiles kissed back, still slightly overwhelmed. Scott's body was burning hot against him, and he could feel Derek's panting against him, and he could feel Derek's panting breath against his neck.

"Scott," he breathed when Scott finally pulled back. "Scott this is—wow—I—but can we, you know, take this somewhere private?"

Scott nodded, eyes flashing red. Stiles' eyebrows shot up. "You—when did you—?"

"Explain later," Derek growled in his ear, pushing him towards the bathroom door. Stiles bewilderedly followed his lead, Scott still clinging to him. As soon as the door closed behind them, Stiles was shoved up against the wall. Scott pressed his body flush against Stiles, every part of him throbbing with almost painful need.

Derek growled at Scott, sliding in behind Stiles. Scott ground his hips against Stiles', fingers clawing Stiles' tee shirt to shreds. Derek thrust against him from behind, hands reaching around to undo his belt and wrench his jeans from his hips, before yanking down his own pants. Stiles yelped as he was lifted up off the ground. Derek's hands were on his waist, holding him tightly against his chest, while Scott's hands gripped under his thighs, spreading Stiles' legs wide to wrap around his waist. Stiles' cock was crushed between his stomach and Scott's, while Derek's was digging almost painfully into his back.

"D-Derek," he stuttered. Derek growled deep in his throat, nails digging into Stiles' hips. Derek lifted Stiles so his cock was pressed between Stiles' cheeks. Stiles wrapped his arms around Scott's neck as Derek spit on his fingers. Derek slowly ran his thumb around Stiles' tight hole, sending chills up Stiles' spine. Stiles bit down on Scott's shoulder as Derek slipped a finger inside. He arched his back as Derek scissored him open, writhing in Scott's embrace. Derek's cock pressed against his entrance, precum mixing with spit to coat the tight rings of muscle. Stiles squeezed Scott tighter, nodding his permission to Derek. Derek gripped Stiles' hips, tilting them down so he could position himself behind him. He started slowly, pushing into Stiles, who cried out, tossing his head back. He pulled out when he met resistance, and then thrust forward again, burying himself fully in Stiles.

The sounds Stiles was making were driving Scott insane. He needed more of Stiles. Needed to help pleasure him. He gently lowered Stiles' legs, helping him stand shakily on his own. Stiles leaned forward, bracing himself on a wall as Scott dropped to his knees. Derek fell into a rhythm, thrusting slowing into Sties, hands gripping Stiles' hips. Scott licked a stripe up the underside of Stiles' cock then mouthed lightly at the tip. Stiles was trembling with arousal, eyes tightly shut as his hips bucked against Scott's mouth. He was in full sensory overload, only aware of Scott's warm, wet mouth and Derek's impossibly large dick.

Derek came first, filling Stiles with hot seed and collapsing against his back, breath shallow and pained. He stayed buried in Stiles until Stiles shot his own load into Scott's mouth. Scott eagerly lapped it up, hand diving into his pants to relieve his own painful erection. Stiles fell against Scott, completely spent and unable to hold himself up any longer.

"Love you," Scott mumbled. Stiles' chest rumbled with laughter as he nuzzled into Scott.

"Yeah, got that," he chuckled.

Derek picked Stiles up, turning him so Stiles could drape his arms and legs around him, and carried him to the shower. Scott stripped out of his clothes and joined them under the warm spray.

"So," Stiles slurred, sleepily, "You want to explain now?" he leaned against the tiled wall, allowing Scott and Derek to run their hands over him, covering him in a soapy lather.

Derek started to explain, but his words didn't process. Stiles could only focus on the soothing lull of Derek's voice, blinking sleepily as Derek talked about alphas and mates and…

When Stiles woke up, he was dressed in fresh clothes and laying in a cot with two warm bodies pressed up on either side of him. He blinked, grinning as he was met with two pairs of glowing red eyes.

"Holy shit," he breathed, the full realization of what this meant finally sinking in. Scott grinned and pounced on Stiles, capturing his hips, while Derek wrapped his arms snugly and possessively around his waist.

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Fin.


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